Life in pieces
“WE’RE IN LOCKDOWN,” comes a voice out of the darkness.
“What are you talking about?” I respond, and immediately realise that I no longer recognise my own voice. Later I will discover that this is because of the damage done to the larynx when a tube is forced down the throat. It is April 17, and for the past month I have been in the grip of a disease so infamous it has shut down nations and killed hundreds of thousands of people. But I can’t get my head around that yet.
In truth, the last thing I remember is getting into an ambulance four weeks earlier. It was the third week of March, and since returning from fashion month, I’d not been feeling at all well. Not scarily bad, but certainly not great. As anyone who knows me – at home or in my industry – can attest, I normally live at 1,000 miles an hour. But I was achey with what felt like a classic flu – or “fashion flu”, as we call the inevitable slump that follows
